Memories of brother never fade

At the corner of Chandler Street and Hadwen Road is a black pole topped by a black crown with a golden star and the name Hirshberg Square.

There are about 238 such veterans memorial squares in the city providing sanctuary for the memories of individuals or groups of individuals killed in wars over the years.

Lt. Jack H. Hirshberg, after whom Hirshberg Square is named, was an Army Air Forces pilot. He was killed in World War II, when his plane was shot down over Germany in 1944. He was 21 years old.

"He was very proud of being an Air Corps man, very proud," his sister, Helen Hirshberg Barron, recalled.

Now 91 years old and living in Boston, Helen was a year younger than Jack, with whom she was very close. Their father, Leo Hirshberg, operated a food products business in the vicinity of Water Street, and was successful enough that by the time his children — Albert, Max, also a military pilot, and Helen — came along, he was able to spend quality time with them.

"He would take time off from his business to take us swimming, ice skating and to all kinds of activities," Helen said. "We were a very happy family."

Before Jack left for duty, the family spent an evening with him in New York, where he was to board the ship that would take him away from home. They never saw him again.

About a year after he was reported as missing in action, a funeral was held for him. His diary and other personal items were given to the family, but his body was never recovered.

"They had a big military funeral for him, with bugles and lots of people," Helen said.

"They gave my mother a big American flag and a Purple Heart for Jack's bravery. He is buried in the B'nai B'rith Cemetery."

The days and months that followed were passed sorrowfully, according to Helen.

"My mother and father went into such a depression," she said.

"They didn't have psychiatrists back then. They didn't have anything. They had just built this beautiful house at 557 Chandler St, but my older brother was married and gone. I was left alone with the two of them. They didn't talk. I couldn't stay there any longer. It was very sad."

Helen left home, met a man in Boston, got married, raised two children, and got divorced.

Then she really began to live.

"Instead of looking for a husband, I decided to go back to college," she said.

This pursuit, she said, included a year at Westbrook Junior College in Portland, Maine, and a psychology degree from Boston College with a magna cum laude distinction when she was 50 years old.

In addition to establishing a private practice in Newton, she traveled the globe to teach and practice in such places as Sweden, China, Africa and Israel. In Israel, she joined Kibbutz Kfar Blum, where she encountered Holocaust survivors.

"That was difficult, because I lost an aunt and her husband and family who were living in Poland during the Holocaust," she said.

"They put them in a synagogue and burned the synagogue down with them inside."

Worcester is on her mind now, and she wants to move back.

"I swear by Worcester. It was the ideal place to grow up. I grew up without fear. It was the safest place to walk anywhere."

Her brother Jack is also on her mind. She would like to visit and put flowers at his square. But her spinal stenosis makes it a little difficult for her to get around.

"He was very loving, kind and understanding, and I wish he was here," she said, her voice soft and teary.

"I would have had a different marriage. I would have had a different life."